Chapter 18 – Jack
JACK
For Jack, mornings remained a tactical drill for imposing order on what lay ahead.
He'd built his military success by methodically reducing the variables he couldn't control. Whenever distractions piled up, he’d learned the hard way to focus on what was right in front of him, "the next right thing," as his father used to say.
As he dressed today, trying to clear the swirling thoughts about Luke from his head, he mumbled "Lock it down" to his reflection.
The phrase was his survival code, dating back to the earliest days at West Point.
During Plebe Year, the constant pressure and rat-tat commands seemed unplanned, but they were expertly choreographed to break anyone who let their guard down about anything—not just having a boyfriend back home.
Ever since then, "lock it down" had brought him promotions, clarity, and even safety in combat.
Now it kept him from drifting back into the delicious visions of Sunday morning: sunlight hitting Luke’s golden curls and sweet lips as he slept.
And the unsettling realization that Jack wanted to spend the entire morning under the covers with him.
He sipped his coffee and glanced around his new abode. No dining table, no real coffeemaker, only the basics and a few boxes he hadn’t unpacked. It was sterile, safe, and familiar.
The campus was still grappling with the aftermath of the storm, and Jack found a perverse pleasure in the "mini crises" that always seemed to await him.
Compared to a patrol in a hostile province, a scheduling conflict in the History Department was a walk in the park.
He relished his efficiency, the man with the solutions at work, at least, if not always at home.
With Jack, success in one field brought more focus there, and others that were uncomfortable tended to remain unexplored.
Hallicks had been leaning on him more and more, hinting that a larger administrative role might be coming his way next semester.
Jack welcomed the extra weight; responsibilities and missions brought relief.
They brought clarity of thought, the opposite of liking someone so much it felt like giving up territory.
He checked his calendar as he headed to the carport: work and Luke.
Two checkpoints to manage, he told himself. He could handle that. He could even help Luke with his funding problem if Luke asked. Luke was clearly not a follower of his “lock it down” mantra, so maybe he’d introduce Luke to the theory.
He tried that a few times with Anna. Big mistake.
Still, he’d keep “lock it down” handy in case it seemed useful to Luke. Until then, he could be the friend, the companion, the "Good Man" everyone in town thought he was.
He just had to keep the "Colonel" squarely in the driver's seat. At least for now.
After arriving on campus, Jack was stopped by Hallicks in the hallway.
"Jack, got a minute? I want to run something by you about the wrestling program."
They walked to Hallicks' office, and for the next hour, Jack was in his element: strategic thinking, resource allocation, and problem-solving. He understood this. He could control this.
And he was good at it all. He was, after all, a West Point graduate with years of leading troops under his belt.
His phone buzzed twice. But he was focused on the task at hand.
When he finally checked, he had two texts from Luke.
“Want to grab lunch? It looks like I might be losing another big donor… Yikes.”
And, “No worries if you're busy.”
Jack typed: “Slammed today. Rain check?”
He sent it, typed in a reminder to ask Luke about it later, and put the phone away.
Hours later, settled back at his office, Jack was grading papers when he heard a knock on the door.
"Sir?"
It was Martinez, the young veteran Jack had been coaching, who wrote about his war experiences. He stood smiling in the doorway, his backpack in hand.
"Martinez," Jack said. "Come in."
"Thank you, Sir. I was in this building and wanted to let you know I did it. I finished my personal essay and turned it in to my comp prof."
"Congratulations, son. How does it feel?"
"Amazing. Like I had a baby or something, I don't know. It shot out of me, and I went through it to make sure all the words were right, the commas, and everything."
He took off his backpack and began to open it.
"I made a copy for you. I mean, if you could read it. I guess I could email it, but I don't know. I like holding it in my hand."
"It's a good feeling, isn't it?" Jack said, taking the two printed pages. "I'd be honored to read this."
Martinez zipped up his backpack and stood, his whole posture lighter than Jack had ever seen it.
"I was so scared, but you were right, Sir. I just had to dive in—and then, once I did, that was it!"
He waved and was gone, leaving Jack smiling.
Who's really teaching here, Colonel?
Jack set the essay on his desk and texted Luke: “Sorry about earlier. I was slammed. Want to talk?”
He didn’t want to feel obligated to Luke so soon after returning to town.
He didn’t want to nail down their relationship, either, or talk about his feelings any more than he already had.
That was always where he ended up disappointing people, and he wasn’t ready to risk either committing to a full-fledged relationship or letting Luke down by failing to articulate every nuance.
But a work problem? Let’s tackle it.
He opened his laptop, about to lose himself in course prep, when he remembered Martinez’s essay.
By the second paragraph, he knew it was good.
Martinez had done it: The kid could really write.